


Michael in the Basement

by impossibilisms



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 00:37:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11612280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossibilisms/pseuds/impossibilisms
Summary: Michael thinks he can suppress his feelings for Jeremy by hurting himself.





	Michael in the Basement

Michael in the basement by himself. He laughs in spite of himself, breathing hard and short as beads of perspiration roll down his face. When he wipes his forehead off, the back of Michael’s hand shines from the sweat. “Come on, it’s not that hard,” he tells himself, the box cutter poised over his inner left arm. 

His arm is, as of now, cut-free. As in, this is his first time doing it and he can’t bring himself to swipe the blade across his skin, a feat that should be the easiest thing in the world. Just a small action, and he can’t even accomplish that. God, he’s worthless. 

After ten minutes of sitting on the cold basement floor in nothing but his boxers and sweater, Michael decides that tonight isn’t the night, making excuses like, what if someone asks you to go to the pool? or what if it’s too hot out this summer to wear long sleeves. Stupid excuses, because Jeremy doesn’t ever go to the pool so he doesn’t have any reason to, and Michael doesn’t even go outside so worrying about heat would be pointless, especially since it’s only too warm for a month or two in New Jersey. 

No, no, I have to do this. What kind of loser is too weak to even cut his own arm? It’s so easy, so easy, and if Michael can’t do it, he might as well die. 

A drop of blood falls to the carpet. 

“Oh, shit, shit, shit,” Michael whispers, running to the bathroom to grab a wad of toilet paper for his arm. He can’t get the blood out no matter how hard he tries, so he puts one of his beanbags over that area of the floor. 

And once you cut yourself one time, it’s not too hard to add to the spectacle. Slice, slice, slice. As Michael does it, his mind is devoid of feeling. It’s robotical, as if it’s something he needed to do all along. Pretty soon, there is a row of eight or so thin cuts on his inner arm. He’s sweating profusely. I did it, I did it. 

But he’s not happy. While he wraps several layers of toilet paper around his arm, there is nothing in his mind but complete and utter self hatred. He can’t believe he did that, fucking idiot. Stupid. 

Now Jeremy will definitely never ever love him. But that’s what he wanted. If Michael could make himself believe that nobody could love him, then he might stop loving others. 

He was wrong.

Michael lays in his bed for the next two hours crying into the pillow before finally falling into a fitful sleep. 

x 

The next morning, Michael has almost forgotten the previous night before he sees his messy arm and remembers the feeling of emptiness weighing down on his shoulders. He feels like garbage.

He cuts himself again that night.

And so it’s a cycle. The more he cuts himself, the more worthless he feels, the more he aches for Jeremy, the more he cries, the more he cuts himself. 

One night, a month or so after Michael started self harming, Jeremy comes over to play video games. Although Michael attempts to seem as lighthearted as usual, Jeremy, having known him for almost thirteen years, can tell that something is off. 

“Is-- is something wrong, Michael?”

Michael turns to Jeremy. Jeremy seems genuinely concerned for him. They simply stare at each other for about ten seconds until Michael notices their characters are about to die, and with a quick “Oh, shit!” they return to the game. 

Jeremy is persistent, however. Once they beat the level, he gets up, sits down in front of Michael, and looks him in the eyes. “Michael, you’ve seemed kinda off lately. You always have your headphones at lunch, you sit at the end of the table, you aren’t talkative during class anymore… you don’t wait for me at your locker after school anymore, but as soon as I text you, you act like it’s all good. But, I don’t know man, you seem…”

Michael looks tired and unexpressive. Jeremy can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“Out of it.”

“Out of it?” Michael stands up and Jeremy does, too. “I look out of it to you?” He asks somewhat accusingly. 

“Well, y-yeah.” Jeremy is scared. Michael seems hostile suddenly. 

“Jeremy Heere, you are a fucking idiot.”

“What?” Jeremy has never seen Michael this angry before. “I’m-- I’m what?” 

“You…” Michael glares down at Jeremy. “No…” Just as suddenly as Michael switched to anger, his face turns down. “Me.” He crumples to the floor suddenly, his head leaning against Jeremy’s legs. “I’m the stupid one. And an idiot. And clingy and annoying. And everyone would be much better off if I just… If I just…”

“Oh my god, Michael.” Jeremy gets down on his knees and hugs the red sweatshirt-clad boy. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

“Everything. Look.” Michael pulls up his left sweatshirt sleeve and Jeremy gasps. The cuts are in clusters all up the inside of his arm. Some are deep, while some are barely visible. Michael shakes his head. “It’s so ugly, just like me, god…”

Jeremy is horrified. “I… I don’t know what to say. I mean, why would you do this?”

The disgusted look on Jeremy’s face makes Michael want to curl in a ball and die. He quickly rolls his sleeve back down. “I thought if I made it so no-one could ever love me, then I would stop… I would stop.”

“Stop what?” Michael looks down, not wanting to answer. Jeremy changes the subject. “I still love you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You don’t love me. Not the way I want.”

“Not the way you…” Jeremy reaches an epiphany. “Y-you…”

Michael nods his head, still averting his eyes. “It’s messed up, and not normal, and I shouldn’t be like this, it just ruins everything, and I thought if I self harmed then I would stop liking you because I’m so fucked up inside. I can’t even think straight. I forgot what it feels like to love someone, like the good kind where you are excited to be with someone, but somewhere along the line it just turned into pining, and it hurt so so much, and I felt like I deserved--”

Michael feels Jeremy envelope him in a hug, and although he can’t see through the tears, he can tell that Jeremy is crying. “Wh-why are you cryi--”

“Oh my god, you idiot, I loved you too!” Jeremy squeezes Michael tighter. “I can’t believe you went through that… but, but I’m here now, okay?” Jeremy grabs Michael’s shoulders firmly and looks at him directly. “Please, please promise me you will never do that again.”

“No, but you, you’re dating Christine! Plus, you’re straight anyways, so me liking you was pointless!”

“Michael. Christine and I broke up after like a week. She found out she’s aro. And I guess I like guys too.”

“So me doing this…” Michael gestures to his arm. “It was all for nothing? God, I’m stupid--”

“Michael, we can put the past behind us now. I’m just so glad I found out now before you cut more. I loved you before, and I love you now even if these scars remain.” Jeremy gently pulls back Michael’s sleeve and kisses the scars one by one, making his way up his arm, before reaching his neck and finally, right before he get to his mouth, he asks, “C-can I kiss you?” 

Michael starts crying. 

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry Michael, I responded badly, I shouldn’t’ve done that, I’m, I’m rushing into things, aren’t I--”

“Please, Jeremy, kiss me. Please.”

Jeremy freezes and his whole face goes red before he slowly kisses Michael. Michael hugs him and embraces the kiss. Jeremy tastes like grape candy. Everything’s okay, for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I know you can't cure depression with a kiss but in the moment everything seemed ok. Presumably Jeremy gets help for Michael :)


End file.
